Mad Love
by Plucky
Summary: On the heels of Clark’s departure, mysterious murders in Metropolis which implicate the Batman send Chloe to Gotham. There she comes face to face with the horrific results of one woman’s unlikely obsession.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Mad Love

**Author: **plucky15

**Beta: **eclipsed

**Word Count: **19 616

**Rating: **pg-13

**Pairing/Genre: **Chloe-centric, action, Batman Begins/The Dark Knight Crossover

**Spoilers: **Doomsday

**Summary: **On the heels of Clark's departure, mysterious murders in Metropolis which implicate the Batman send Chloe to Gotham. There she comes face to face with the horrific results of one woman's unlikely obsession.

**Part One**

Chloe was alone.

Jimmy was dead and buried. Clark was gone. Ollie, Bart, Dinah were nowhere to be found and Victor and A.C. had yet to return any of her emails.

Lois was missing.

Of that, Chloe was the most painfully aware. Lois hadn't walked away, hadn't been impaled by a psychopath. Chloe unleashed a monster on Metropolis, in her misguided crusade to both save Clark and help Davis, and her cousin was a probable casualty. Her heart clenched with guilt.

Chloe's only comfort was the way the sunlight shone through the stained glass windows of the Watchtower. Greens and yellows slanted across the papers piled on Chloe's desk as she clacked away at her keyboard and squinted at her computer screen.

Weeks had passed since Jimmy had first revealed this place to her, and despite the bloodstain that still marred the floor, Chloe saw the loft for what it could be. Her sanctuary, her centre of operations, and eventually, a symbol of hope. She had her things from the Talon, and the equipment from Isis, moved there following Jimmy's funeral and immediately got to work tracking the missing members of the Justice League.

"And just why are you staring so hard at a picture of a blur in front of the Eiffel Tower, Chica?"

Chloe jumped, and swiveled around to face the intruder.

"Rojas!" Chloe exclaimed as she clutched her hand to her chest. "What are you doing here?"

Chloe met Andrea Rojas three years ago, when she was a reporter at the Daily Planet. Andrea was timid and unassuming, and so Chloe had hardly paid her any attention. That changed when she and Clark discovered that this was simply the woman's cover for her true self, the Angel of Vengeance. Andrea eventually decided to drop the dual identity, and enter the hero business fulltime.

"Checking up on a friend, considering her tendency to be at the centre of any major catastrophe that hits Metropolis."

The Angel of Vengeance gave Chloe a wry grin and leaned in to study the picture displayed on the computer screen.

"Looks like the red and blue blur has finally moved out of my territory. So, does this mean Clark . . ?" she trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question delicately.

"Is gone," Chloe clarified. "And Metropolis imploded about a month ago, why so late on the check-up?"

"Not all of Metropolis' heroes have been on vacation for the past month, Sullivan. With the blur gone, I've had to extend my focus beyond the slums."

Chloe winced at the reminder of Clark's desertion. She knew that she would forgive him for leaving her, probably already did. She always pulled herself together in the end, and so the absence of Clark's comfort, although hurtful, was not debilitating. Chloe would survive, and eventually she'd regain her smile, if not slightly more dim than before.

Clark's desertion of Metropolis, however, was unforgivable. To both herself, and Andrea, judging by the disgusted lilt to the woman's voice.

"I'm sorry, Sullivan. I know how close you were, and it must be hard not having him here at such a hard time for you. Olsen and Lane were good people, and Metropolis will miss them."

Chloe frowned, and replied, "Thank you, but don't mourn Lois just yet. She has the habit of popping up when you least expect her. I've got a lot of time on my hands at the moment. No job, no life really. If she's out there, I'll find her."

Andrea rested her hand on Chloe's shoulder, a show of silent support.

"I saw the posters around the slums. She's been missing since that monster tore the city apart?"

Chloe nodded. "Servers at the Daily Planet state she was logged into her computer that morning."

"And no one's seen her since?"

" No one. When I went to her apartment, her bed was still unmade and there was coffee left in the coffee pot. None of her things are missing, she just disappeared. The Metropolis PD have their hands full with cleaning up the city, and don't have the time to look for her, not that their search could unearth anything I haven't already. J'on says that if nothing's turned up by now, either she doesn't want to be found, or . . ."

Chloe couldn't finish the sentence. J'on Jones, with whom Andrea had been acquainted once he joined the Metropolis PD, had been delicate when reasoning with her, but Chloe did not even want to consider her cousin's death as a possibility. Not with Jimmy already dead and Clark gone. Not with the rest of her life in shambles.

"I know you don't want to hear this Sullivan, but John knows what he's talking about. He's been helping people a lot longer than you or me. You've done what you can to help your cousin, and it might not feel like it's enough, but you can't lose yourself in this search. You've lost a lot of who you are over the years I've known you Chloe, and Lois would be devastated by what her disappearance has done to you. As much as you love her, there's nothing you can do for her now that you haven't already. You need a break, something to get your fire back. Then you can return to the search with fresh eyes."

Chloe smiled to cover the tears that began to well up and wiped them away quickly.

"Did you just come by for the pep talk?" Chloe asked, hoping to divert the conversation to less emotionally-charged topics.

Andrea laughed.

"No, actually. I was hoping I could get a certain reporter to do some research for me."

More comfortable with the direction the conversation began to take, Chloe remarked dryly, "So this is what you meant by taking a break? If you haven't noticed, I'm not a reporter anymore."

"Chica, once a reporter, always a reporter. I even catch myself grilling perps like interview subjects, and composing exposes in my head from time to time. The instincts never leave you, in fact they come in handy in the hero business."

At this, Chloe rose from her chair to look Andrea in the eye. "Well, if you're still an ace reporter, why don't you do your own research? If you haven't noticed, my hands are full at the moment. I have a cousin to find and a nomad best friend to keep an eye on."

"Ordinarily, I would," Andrea admitted, "but the Bat doesn't take kindly to other heroes nosing around in his territory."

"The Bat?"

"Gotham's answer to the Angel of Vengeance."

"But not the Blur?" Chloe asked.

"Let's just say Gotham's dark knight is a little more morally ambiguous than the big red and blue."

"And you've been known to teach the bad guys a lesson or two before you turn them in," Chloe teased. She grimaced then, and admitted, "He would not be the first hero I've dealt with who has the tendency to blur the lines of Justice."

"Don't tell me one of your super-powered groupies took things too far?"

Chloe thought of telling Andrea the truth about Lex's death, but decided against it. "You know what? I'm sorry I brought it up. I have enough problems of my own at this point, I really don't want to start delving into those of others."

"Alright," Andrea relented. "But I knew there was a reason I didn't trust that league. I've seen what vigilantism does to people, how it can turn them. It would have happened to me if I hadn't met you and Clark."

"I was just doing what I do best. Hero support, and all that."

"Hero support? Chica? What garbage have they been filling your head with? You're an investigator. You uncover things that help me keep Metropolis safe. You're not my support, or my sidekick. You're my partner, a hero in your own right."

And there it was. Everything Chloe didn't know she needed to hear, and looking into the eyes of the woman in front of her, she saw that it was coming from a friend. Without thinking, Chloe wrapped her arms around Andrea.

The Angel returned the embrace awkwardly, but gave Chloe a reassuring smile when she released her. "Sorry, I've been a little emotional lately. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

Pulling herself together, Chloe questioned Andrea about her proposal.

"OK, so Batman's methods are questionable. But Gotham's known for it's shady dealings. A tough town needs a tougher hero."

"Normally I wouldn't worry, as my main focus is Metropolis just as the Batman is wholly focussed on Gotham. Or so I thought. Two of Bruno Manheim's men were killed last night, and not low level thugs either. Two of his inner circle."

Bruno Manheim's power over Metropolis had intensified after the events of what had been dubbed Metropolis' Doomsday. Emergency services had been with clean up, and so the mob took control of everyday dealings. People in the slums turned to Manheim for protection from thieves and crooks who tried to profit from the aftermath of the disaster. In return, he received loyal followers, who would accept the rule of the mob in the slums.

By doing so, as well as greasing the palms of a few of Metropolis' finest, Manheim had successfully established his reign as Metropolis' newest and most powerful mob boss. People would not cross him, and the law turned a blind eye.

"Ok, but I'm still not seeing the connection."

"I found these on their bodies."

Andrea threw down two bat shaped, black metal cut outs. Chloe reached out to examine one, but quickly withdrew her hand in pain. She'd sliced her finger on the sharp edge of what she could only assume were some kind of throwing star.

"Hence the Batman connection," Chloe observed as she applied pressure to the cut. It was at times like this when she really wished her healing ability hadn't disappeared post-Brainiac possession.

"I did some talking to my contacts in the slums, and these aren't the first bodies that have turned up with that calling card. Drug dealers, prostitutes. Victims nobody misses, and so the deaths are kept quiet, but it has the people of the slums scared. The last thing we need in the slums right now is panic, all hell might break loose. Not to mention the mob war Manheim will bring to our doorstep if we don't figure out what's going on. He figures the Gotham mob is trying to move into his territory. Thinks they recruited Batman, or something equally insane."

Chloe swallowed. Metropolis had always been a thriving city. Bright and resolute, the Daily Planet proudly displaying what the city held dear: truth and justice. A mob war this close after Doomsday would destroy the city. It would never return to it's former glory. After everything she'd lost in the past month she wasn't going to lose her city too.

"Count me in," Chloe announced to her friend. "So, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Sullivan."

* * *

Although she decided years ago that she was destined to be a fulltime hero, Andrea Rojas had kept in touch with many of the contacts she'd made as a journalist. Vicki Vale at the Gotham Gazette was one of them.

Thanks to Vicki, a successful photographer at Gotham's most prestigious daily, Chloe had an air tight cover to explain her presence in Gotham: Gazette intern. If anyone asked, not that she thought she would get close enough to the people here for anyone to care, Chloe had taken the job to get away from Metropolis and the bad memories it held. However, she wasn't ecstatic to be back to working the phones and proofing obits, but as an intern she'd have access to all of the paper's resources and would, hopefully, fly under the radar during her investigation of the murders in Metropolis.

As she looked around the bullpen at the Gotham Gazette, Chloe was haunted by Andrea's final words to her.

"Chloe, there's something else you should know about the murders. The corners of the victims' mouths were sliced, to make them smile in death, that, and those bat-shaped blades, are the only links between them."

Against her better judgment, before leaving for Gotham, Chloe had pulled the coroner's reports on the victims at the Watchtower, as well as the pictures that accompanied them. Nine victims had smiled grotesquely at her from the surrounding computer monitors.

They were images Chloe would not soon forget.

Her desk was located on the second floor. Much brighter than her previous basement dwellings at the Planet, but no less crowded. Other would-be cub reporters moved frantically around the floor, from their desk to the copy room and back, some occasionally grabbing their coats and running for the exit. They were undoubtedly chasing the story that would take them up to the news floors.

Fortunately, Chloe's desk was situated in the corner of the room. With her back facing the wall, she could safely research without impeding the traffic of the other staff, and also ensure that her true purpose for being there remained concealed. It provided a vantage point to observe the floor, which is why Chloe was not surprised when Ms. Vale approached her desk.

She had yet to meet the infamous photojournalist, knowing only that Andrea trusted her. When she'd checked into her hotel in Gotham, which Andrea had graciously agreed to pay for, although Chloe had no idea through what means, she received a hand written note from the woman informing her to be at the Gazette Monday morning at 8:30 am.

When she'd arrived, the receptionist, after taking her name, had called down another intern to take her up to her desk. The boy, who looked no older than 17, seemed annoyed in having to perform the menial task, and so was not a talkative escort. This was fine with Chloe, since she had no intention of forming any relationships with the staff at the Gazette, professional or otherwise, unless it was pertinent to her investigation. After everything that happened in Metropolis, Chloe had no intention of involving anyone else in her fights. If that meant closing herself off from the world, well, at least the staff at the Gazette didn't seem opposed to the idea. They took the elevator up to the second floor, and Chloe was swiftly deposited at her desk, seemingly to await Vicki's arrival.

"All settled in?" The blonde woman asked as she approached.

She smiled brightly for someone who had witnessed so much brutality. Vale, who was in her mid-thirties, was known for her uncensored photography of the cruelty that was found in the Narrows, Gotham's version of Suicide Slums.

"As much as I'll ever be," Chloe replied. She stood up and offered her hand to the woman, "Chloe Sullivan."

The woman's smile brightened, if that was possible, as she shook Chloe's hand firmly. It was a no-nonsense hand shake, and Chloe suspected that it betrayed more of the character of the woman in front of her than her cheery expression.

"Rojas didn't tell me why you were in Gotham, but she promised me that you wouldn't be running down the streets, with destruction in your wake. I expect you to keep that promise, understand?"

Vicki required no answer, as she continued, "She did hint that your presence had something to do with the Batman. I've been following his exploits for a while now, and like to consider myself a bit of an expert on him, actually. My editor, however, wants nothing to do with the story after Dent's murder. So, you see, I really don't have much use for this."

With a flourish, Vicki dropped a large manila envelope on Chloe's desk. "Everything I've collected on the Batman. Articles, eyewitness accounts, my own photographs."

"And you're just handing it over?" Chloe asked incredulously.

"In Gotham, honey, when your editor tells you to drop the story, you drop it. Otherwise you get stuffed in a van on your way home from work, and no one hears from you again. I've made a name for myself, kid, and as such, I'm watched. I choose my battles, and this is not one I want to fight."

"But the Batman story is a journalistic holy grail? Why give it up?" Chloe asked suspiciously. It was extremely odd for a journalist to willingly give up on a story, even at the request of an editor. Maybe Vale had some connection to this Batman?

"When you've seen what I've seen, you realize that journalism isn't about making a name for yourself, it's about bringing to light the injustices in the world so that they can be righted. Batman does good work in this city, excepting Dent's murder, so I'd rather chase the drug lords and crime bosses in the Narrows."

"Why was this Dent guy's murder such a blow to the city?" Chloe asked. She was slightly ashamed she didn't recognize the name. Unfortunately, after her dismissal from the Daily Planet, Chloe had found it hard to keep informed on important events around the world, when she was constantly trying to stop global destruction and keep Kryptonian villains at bay.

"It's all in the folder." With that, Vicki reached into the inside pocket of her suit jacket, and handed Chloe a card. "In case you need to get in touch," she explained. "I've also written my cell and my home phone number on the back. If you run into any kind of trouble, don't hesitate to call me."

"Thanks," Chloe said.

"One more thing, Sullivan," Vicki said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Be careful who you trust here. Half the city is owned by the mob, and an even bigger portion of this paper."

Chloe looked around at her fellow interns. The average age of the staff couldn't be over 20 years.

"Don't let their age fool you," Vicki warned, knowingly. "They've all got family in the hospital, tuition they couldn't pay, or got mixed in with the wrong people. That's how the mob bought them, and you or me are of no importance to them. They'd hand us over the moment they received word. Be careful who you trust."

Vicki's bright smile was back again, and she gave Chloe a little wave before heading towards the elevators.

Chloe collapsed into her desk chair as she watched Vicki leave. Vale was a force to be reckoned with, the kind of strong, female journalist Chloe had once yearned to be. Straightening up in her chair, her hands greedily picked up the folder Vicki had left for her.

Before she could open it, however, a stack of papers was unceremoniously dumped in front of her. She looked up to see a young female intern, glowering at her. For what, Chloe had no idea.

"Boss wants you to proof these and bring them to his office," she announced and then walked away. Unfortunately the questions of what boss, and by when, would go unanswered.

Chloe sighed. She did not miss proving herself as an intern, but she supposed the faster she showed her worth, the faster she'd be given the freedom to chase some leads, and get her research done for Andrea. The folder, unfortunately, would have to wait.

She threw it into the bottom drawer on the left side of her desk, which luckily possessed a lock, the key for which, she saw, was on the key ring they'd given her at reception along with her key to the supply room, and her security access card.

Once it was safely tucked away, Chloe thumbed through the papers she'd been given. "Great," she groaned. "Obits."

* * *

The hotel she was staying at was a lot nicer than she'd expected. It was probably the most upscale hotel Chloe had ever been in. Andrea had made the reservation for her and given her the address before she left. If Chloe hadn't been greeted as Ms. Penelope Payne as she checked in at the reception desk, she would have been convinced there was some mistake.

Sleek gray marble covered the floor and the reception desk of the lobby. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and a modern seating area was located behind her that opened into a large dining area, which, Chloe was assured, was a four star restaurant that serves the best filet mignon, "you have ever had in your life".

Chloe brought with her a hefty suitcase for the trip. In it she'd packed the Kevlar suit Ollie bought her when she signed onto the League fulltime, which she had previously refused to wear due its snug fit. To say it left nothing to the imagination was an understatement, but Chloe thought it would come in handy given Gotham's lawless reputation. At least Oliver had decided that her role as a researcher and spy for the league merited a slightly less conspicuous suit, colored a dark violet, opposed to the bright colours that clothed the other members.

She'd also packed her taser, her personal GPS, and a militarygrade flashlight, borrowed from Lois' things. Luckily, when she finished check in, she was greeted by a Bellboy, who was much to eager to help with her bag.

The suite was composed of a small seating area and bedroom, with an en suite bath. The seating area was outfitted with a coffee table, two chairs which matched those in the lobby, and a writing desk in the corner. Chloe was thankful for the space, which she could use as her centre of operations. When checking in, Chloe requested that her room not be cleaned for the duration of her stay. She did not plan on being in Gotham too long, and any person who entered her room would jeopardize her investigation.

Although it intimidated most people, Chloe worked most efficiently when all information was displayed before her. This is why Chloe had constructed the Wall of Weird in high school, and liked to be surrounded by monitors while working as Watchtower. Before sleeping the night before, Chloe had drawn the silk draperies in the sitting room and bedroom, shielding herself from the probing lights of Gotham city, and posted what she had collected on the murders, and rumours about the Batman she'd come across during her preliminary research. She'd had to take down an ornately framed painting from the wall to make room.

Done reminiscing, Chloe used her key card to enter the room, which was located on the eighth floor of the ten-story hotel. Her first day as an intern in over a year had been exhausting. She set her purse and the key card down on a small side table in the entry-way, and toed off her heels. Walking to her bedroom, she stripped herself of her trench coat and business suit, and pulled on a pair of well-loved Smallville High sweatpants and a tank top. Her hair was pulled into a tiny ponytail at the back of her head, and Chloe replaced her clothing in the armoire, where she had also placed her suitcase, and all of the equipment she'd brought, the night before.

A quick call down to room service, with the instructions to knock when they arrived and to leave the food outside of the room, and Chloe was finally ready to delve into the folder that had plagued her thoughts for the entire day.

Unfortunately, an intern's day in Gotham was no slower than one in Metropolis, and Chloe had been kept busy proofing obits and personals, working the phones and acting as a slave for the senior reporters. All this had left no time for Chloe to take a look at what Vicki's folder held. The busy newsroom, Chloe supposed, was not the best place to commence her research anyway. Chloe had no desire to betray herself to her coworkers as anything other than an eager intern.

A welcome knock interrupted her musings, and Chloe happily gathered her food from outside the door. She set it down on the coffee table in the sitting room before grabbing her purse from the entryway, and a pillow from one of the chairs, to sit beside the table.

Chloe took a few rapid bites of her meal to calm her groaning stomach, then placed her fork down and hastily unwound the closure on the folder. She carefully pulled out a collection of newspaper articles, press releases, photographs and CDs that had been labelled and dated. Greedily, Chloe began to sift through the papers, setting the digital media aside for later. Unfortunately, noting the dates, the papers did not seem to be in chronological order. She forgot about her meal on the table as Chloe began to read through the information.

She read about Batman's emergence in Gotham, his kidnapping of Jim Gordon's family and murder of Harvey Dent, the doctor from Arkham Asylum that had used a fear toxin to assault Gotham, the Joker's first confrontation with Batman at a party held by Bruce Wayne, the madman's fevered search for the vigilante. Chloe chuckled to herself when she read of Batman dragging a corrupt Chinese businessman back across the Atlantic. The death of Rachel Dawes and attempted murder of Dent at the hands of the Joker impressed upon Chloe the possible consequences for those who chose to fight the corruption in Gotham City.

When Chloe read of the Joker's twisted attempt to test the morality of the people of Gotham by rigging two ferries with explosives, she frowned. Victims who had been kidnapped and held in a building by the pier testified that Batman had saved them, and the Joker was left hanging from the building for the authorities. Batman had saved countless lives, and yet it was that same night that he had supposedly kidnapped the family of Commissioner Gordon and murdered the man who had been declared Gotham's White Knight. It just didn't make sense. Why fight so hard to save Gotham, only to then destroy yourself in the eyes of all its citizens? And why victimize Jim Gordon, when the press had made the officer out to be the only link between law enforcement and the Batman?

There was a noticeable difference between articles written about the Batman in the past, and more recent pieces. After his supposed murder of Dent, reporters that had once heralded him as Gotham's saviour, villianized the vigilante. It seemed the Batman no longer brought hope to the citizens of Gotham.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding Chloe that she had neglected it. Chloe set down the papers she had been reading, picked up her fork and began to eat the forgotten food.

It was stone cold by now, but she was starving. When she finished she stood up, and stumbled a bit. Her legs had gone numb from sitting cross-legged on the floor. Stretching big and tall evoked a yawn from Chloe, and so she scampered over to a coffee machine set up next to the writing desk in the corner, and ripped open a bag of coffee grinds that smelled wonderful, but doubtlessly cost more than what she spent on coffee in a week. Chloe was again thankful that Andrea had volunteered to pay for this trip, although it still mystified Chloe how she could afford it.

Deciding not to dwell, Chloe pulled out her laptop from the bag she'd left sitting on the floor, and booted it up. She'd get a look at the files on the CDs as she waited for her coffee to brew. There were two in the packet. One, as indicated on the label contained audio files of the interrogation of Carmine Falcone, the other housed video files of the Joker. Chloe was curious how Vicki had managed to obtain video footage of the madman, and so grabbed the CD, and slid it into place. There were three files on the CD. Chloe clicked on the first.

Suddenly a window popped up and loaded the file. The video began to play, and Chloe saw a man she recognized as Brian Douglas, who impersonated Batman while pursuing his own ambitions of fighting crime. A sickening voice began to taunt the man, who was bound to a chair, still wearing his Batman costume. She watched in horror as the Joker toyed with his victim, until he finally showed himself on camera. As he demanded that Batman turn himself in, Chloe studied his face. She paused the image so she could look more closely. Chloe gasped when she saw the scars at the corners of his mouth, angrily covered by what she imagined was red face paint. They were identical to the marks left on the victims in Metropolis.

Chloe leaned back to ponder what she had discovered. It was possible that the Joker had a hand in the murders, but all sources indicated that he was securely locked up in Arkham Asylum, not that the institution's reputation of retaining its patients was any better than Bellereve's. The Joker was also notorious for his rivalry with Batman. Perhaps he was framing the vigilante for the murders? But why in Metropolis, of all places, where people had their own heroes to occupy their thoughts?

Chloe mentally tucked those questions away, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. So she had found another link between the murders and Gotham, which she intended to exploit thoroughly. A visit to Arkham Asylum would have to be made, to establish that the Joker was indeed locked up at the time of the murders, and ensure he did not have any visitors who could carry out the dirty work for him.

Chloe picked up her laptop once again, and proceeded to watch the remaining files. One was a recording of the Joker's interrogation by Gotham's police force when he'd been apprehended following a deadly car chase, and the last was a video of what Chloe assumed was an initial assessment of the Joker by a doctor at the asylum. His makeup had been washed off his face, and his scars were red and inflamed.

Through out the video, the Joker systematically ignored the questions asked by the doctor and instead preceded to tell the person operating the camera that she looked awfully unhappy. He insulted her appearance and demeanour through out the video until he told her she'd be a lot prettier if she smiled. Suddenly there was a knife in his hand, and he pounced at the camera, his face contorting into his maniacal smile. Static followed, and Chloe shivered when she imagined what probably happened that day.

She found no other mention of the attack in Vicki's files, nor when she searched online for information. It seemed the incident had gone unreported, and Chloe had to wonder how Vale had managed to get her hands on this recording. The wealth of information Vicki had provided was impressive, but Chloe expected no less from a celebrated journalist.

Chloe yawned. Satisfied that she'd caught the scent, a glance at the clock confirmed that it was indeed time for bed. She shutdown her computer, and left the clippings were they laid, scattered on the floor. She'd post them tomorrow when she had a chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thank you so much to those who reviewed! Here's the next part, and I hope you enjoy.

**To Faere**: I'm a huge fan of your fic _Changes_, so it means a lot to me that you read and enjoyed the first part . . . but please, do not put your wonderful fic down. Such ridiculousness will not be tolerated!

**Part Two**

As soon as Chloe emerged from the elevator the next morning, she was accosted by the same unhappy girl who had dropped off the obituaries the day before.

"Editor wants to see you," she scowled.

"Thanks," Chloe replied with a smile, hoping she might encourage a friendlier interaction. A grimace crossed the face of the girl, who really held too much anger for someone so young.

Chloe quickly walked to her desk, shaking off the awkwardness of the conversation, and deposited her coat and bag. She grabbed a notepad and pen, and then walked back across the sea of desks towards a big oak door in the corner with a gold placard proclaiming 'Editor', hanging dangerously by only one screw in its upper left corner. She knocked and opened the door slowly, poking her head into the office.

A gruff man in his early fifties peered back at her from his desk, his nameplate identifying him as Spencer Hawk. Once a star journalist, he'd made front-page headlines in the Gazette when he reported on the possible mob connection to the Wayne murders.

Hawk, who worked the crime beat in his glory days, didn't turn a blind eye to the corruption in Gotham, and that's probably what landed him buried in the second floor. Or, at least, that's what Chloe had been able to glean from the Internet and the gossiping of her fellow interns.

He was the stereotypical newspaper editor, with grey hair, suspenders and a cigar burning in the ash tray on his desk. And yet, Chloe thought to herself, he was nothing like any of the editors she'd had before, having had only one competent editor out of three during her latest tenure at the Planet. What she had witnessed of the paper since told her that Tess was no better than her predecessors. Hawk's shirt sleeves were rolled up, and the tips of his fingers were covered in ink.

"Come in, Ms. Payne," the man beckoned as he indicated a chair opposite his desk, the corner of his mouth curving upward when he said the name. She'd insisted on a pseudonym when she agreed to Andrea's plan, and it seemed the Angel's rather ridiculous choice of Penelope Payne had not fooled him. Chloe sat, as he closed the folder he'd been working on and clasped his hands.

"I like you," he said, suddenly. Shocked by the blunt declaration, Chloe didn't reply, and so the man explained, "You finished proofing everything I sent over to you yesterday and you didn't bug me with fifty questions about how to do it."

"I'm glad my work was satisfactory," Chloe said. It was nice to receive praise from an editor for once.

"I have an assignment for you. The mayor is giving a press conference at 10 am today about a special task force the new Commissioner's assembled to combat the mob. I want you to get yourself down to city hall, get some quotes, and get me the copy by five. Now, I know it's not the most glamorous piece, but it's the best I can give you on the second floor."

"Wait? You're sure you want me to do it? After only one day?" Chloe asked. She was perplexed with the speed she had advanced at the Gazette. Hawk didn't know she was already a seasoned reporter, and a city hall piece was a big step up for an intern. She supposed this is how Lois felt at the Planet. But, unlike Lois, who didn't mind if she made enemies on her way to the top, Chloe's mission relied on her existence under the radar.

"Of course I'm sure, Penelope." Again Chloe detected the slight smile. "Half my staff is owned by somebody, be it the mob or some corrupt politician, and don't act like you don't know it. I need someone on this who isn't going to slam the police for wasting their resources, and I don't want them sugar-coating things either. Besides, Vicki told me I shouldn't waste you on the obituaries. Now that you've paid your dues, I want you in the field."

So Vicki had talked to him. This _was _helpful, Chloe supposed. Being out in the field gave Chloe more freedom to figure out the Batman mystery. After the conference she'd have time to visit Arkham and see what the Joker has been up to.

Hawk glanced down at his watch. "9:15 already. You better scoot."

Chloe stood and offered her hand to the man, who took it and shook firmly. "Thanks for the opportunity, sir," she said.

"Copy by 5," he reminded her. "And try to make those crooks quiver in their boots, will ya."

Chloe nodded and let herself out.

As she walked back across the floor towards her desk, Chloe noticed more than one jealous stare. As she gathered up her things from the desk, one male employee with a desk beside hers remarked, "So the old Hawk has freed you from the pit already. What'd you have to do to manage that?"

He raised his eyebrows to make it clear what he was implying, while the people around snickered. Chloe scowled and reminded herself that she couldn't afford to make enemies while she was here. She held her tongue as she pulled on her coat, and headed for the elevator.

"He won't help you get ahead," the man called. His voice had lost it's arrogant lilt. "Not in this town. There's a reason he's been banished down here. I'd remember that before you end up on the wrong side of the wrong people."

Without even trying, Chloe had begun to rustle some feathers. Well, if she already had a target on her back, she might as well not pull any punches today.

*** * ***

The press conference was less about fighting the mob, and more about a photo opportunity for Bruce Wayne. According to the mayor, a donation from Wayne Enterprises had provided the means to assemble the task force. It seemed Wayne had found time during his whirlwind life of fancy parties and beautiful women to befriend both Rachel Dawes and Harvey Dent, two victims of crime in Gotham.

After a brief introduction by the Mayor, the man stepped up to the mic.

From her place at the front of the crowd, with the other members of the press, Chloe could see he was extremely attractive. If Chloe were one to use clichés, she'd say he was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. He seemed to know it too, as he smiled for the cameras before he began. Chloe didn't know a lot about Bruce Wayne, only that he'd lost his parents as a child and once he'd reached adolescence, he disappeared. He was gone so long, in fact, that he'd been declared dead.

His mysterious past, however, was now often overshadowed by the playboy image he projected. Chloe knew two other billionaires who'd crafted the same image, and used it quite convincingly to mask their true selves.

"I want to thank everyone for coming, today."

Applause rang out in the crowd, and Chloe heard more than one excited female cheer.

Bruce grinned, and continued, "We're here to talk about a saddening and disturbing truth. Gotham is under siege. In the past year I've lost close friends to organized crime. People willing to stand up and fight for Gotham. They were lost because for too long the Gotham Police force has not had the resources necessary to adequately fight the corruption in this city."

Wayne paused to allow the crowd to cheer their agreement. When he received the expected response, he flashed a fake smile for all the cameras.

Chloe rolled her eyes.

"Wayne Enterprises is prepared to equip a task force, to be assembled by Commissioner Gordon, with these resources to ensure that Gotham can again become the brightcity that it once was."

Again, he paused for applause. "Now, I would like to call on the Commissioner himself, Mr. Jim Gordon, to inform you about the objectives of the task force."

Wayne stepped back from the mic to stand beside the mayor, and clapped as the commissioner took centre stage.

"Good morning," the Commissioner greeted. "After the recent acts of terrorism enacted by the Joker, the mayor and I feel that a special unit is necessary to maintain the safety of Gotham City, which Mr. Wayne has generously agreed to finance. The unit will consist of experienced officers who have proved themselves to be dedicated to serving Gotham. They will be working specifically to lessen the choke hold of organized crime on the city. They will also work to bring in the vigilante known as the Batman, whose acts in the past have impeded police investigations, and serve to intensify mob violence in the city. Although thought of as a hero in the past, he showed his true colours when he murdered one of Gotham's best, also a friend to Mr. Wayne, Harvey Dent."

Silence had fallen over the crowd. It seemed the pain of losing their hero was still fresh.

"In closing, the Gotham Police force, as well as the Mayor and Wayne Enterprises, want the people of Gotham to be assured that your security is extremely important to us, and we will work tirelessly to protect it. Thank you."

The crowd cheered once again, and the Commissioner stepped back from the microphone. A woman, stepped forward then and announced, "Ladies and Gentleman of the press, we thank you for coming and will now take your questions."

Around Chloe, people vied for the chance to speak.

A woman to the right of Chloe was chosen.

"Jen Malloy, The Bugle," she indicated. "Is there reason to believe that the Batman is connected to the string of murders that has been uncovered in the narrows? Is there any truth to the rumour that the Batman left his insignia at the scene of the crime?"

This peaked Chloe's attention, and she waited as Gordon stepped forward to field the question.

"The recent murders are currently under investigation. As the case is still open, I cannot comment on evidence found at the crime scene at this time."

Chloe would bet her cute new vespa that the murders in the Narrows were exactly like those in Metropolis. She was disappointed that she hadn't heard about them sooner, but it was only her third day in Gotham. Chloe mentally added research mysterious deaths in the Narrows to her to do list.

A man was chosen next. "Hank Giles for GTV news," he announced and then asked, " 'Combat the mob' is an extremely broad statement of action. What are the specific short term goals of the task force?"

The mayor stepped forward to answer this time. "I've met extensively with Commissioner Gordon regarding this issue. The task force will begin by working closely with narcotics to stop the flow of drugs and other illegal goods that give organized crime its livelihood. We will concentrate on starving them out, so to speak."

The crowd grumbled in approval. When the Mayor stepped back, Commissioner Gordon stepped back up to the mic, "With an entire task force on the job, known members of organized crime will be constantly watched, as well as known meeting locations. This was impossible before, and eventually a mistake will be made that will allow us to take action against the crime that is destroying our beautiful city."

Polite applause, and then another reporter was called upon. Satisfied that she had all the quotes she needed, and conscious of her looming 5 o'clock deadline, Chloe decided she had better head over to Arkham now. She edged toward the periphery of the crowd. She stopped suddenly when she heard the Gazette mentioned up on stage.

Chloe looked over and saw Bruce at the microphone. "I assume the Gazette has some questions for us as well?"

Chloe groaned. Her editor would kill her if she passed up this opportunity, and unfortunately, Chloe was still a reporter at heart. She strode back toward the stage, and raised her hand. When she was close she called, "Penelope Payne, Gotham Gazette."

Chloe didn't have a question prepared, so she asked something that had been bugging her throughout the conference.

"If Batman is working on your side to bring down the mob, why are you using the unit to hunt him as well? The Batman has worked hard to help the people of Gotham, why does he deserve the same treatment as the mob?"

Wayne looked at her curiously from the stage. Chloe, who worked closely with other arrogant men as Watchtower, knew when she was being sized up. She pulled herself to her full height and looked him dead in the eye.

"It is the job of the police, and not vigilantes, Ms. Payne, to keep Gotham safe. It is also known that the Batman is responsible for the murder of Gotham's previous District Attorney, as well as the millions of dollars in damage he has caused during his acts of _heroism_."

The last word was said with so much disdain, the only way it would be more obvious that Bruce Wayne was not a fan of Batman was if he'd used air quotes.

"Even heroes should go to jail for murder."

Chloe was prepared to rebut about the legitimacy of the accusation, but a keening wail was heard from the back of the crowd. Again her reporter instincts flared to life. Chloe spun around and elbowed her way through people on their cell phones to the back of the crowd. There she witnessed a young woman stagger bare-footed out onto the street. Her skirt was ripped and her shirt hung loosely down over one shoulder. The crowd began to drift back from the girl, which made it harder for Chloe to reach her. A quick glance back at the stage showed that the three men were still there, but trying to figure out what was going on.

When she finally escaped the crowd, Chloe looked at the girl's face and gasped. It was the young girl from the office, the one with the attitude problem. Apparently, others agreed, because her cheeks bore the same slashes Chloe had seen on the Metropolis murder victims. She now had no choice but to smile grotesquely. The girl was shaking, and so Chloe reached out to support her.

Immediately upon contact, the girl collapsed into Chloe's arms, her breathing shallow.

"Help! Somebody call an ambulance!" she called.

It took all the strength she had to gingerly lower the girl to the ground. Her face was twisted in pain. Chloe looked around to see if she would receive help, but people stayed away. She briefly made eye contact with Bruce Wayne, who had a stiff look on his face, as if he were restraining himself. She furrowed an eyebrow, but she didn't have time to question what she'd seen.

She looked back down at the girl and prayed that someone had heeded her call. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered to the girl that it would be alright.

As the girl's breathing became shallower, and her eyes closed, Chloe knew she was lying.

When the ambulance arrived, the girl had already passed on, but Chloe continued to hold her. The penance she paid for being unable to save her.

The paramedics relieved Chloe and attended to the body. She was escorted to another ambulance where she was offered a seat and theychecked her vitals. When they were satisfied she had not gone into shock, they left her alone.

What a lovely way to spend the morning, she thought. Once again, she was powerless to save the people around her.

Chloe clung to the blanket that had been draped around her, and let her feet dangle from the back of the ambulance. She watched the crowds of people who observed the scene. It was quite a spectacle. Gotham police cars blocked off the perimeter of the conference while the officers gathered statements from the crowd, Chloe had already given hers, and marked the crime scene.

"Are you alright, young lady?"

Chloe looked over at Commissioner Gordon.

"You mean after having someone die in my arms? I'm peachy."

Chloe looked back over at the crowds, and felt Gordon sit down beside her on the ledge.

"Shouldn't you be over there, organizing the troops?" Chloe remarked.

"I have an experienced group of officers on this case, Ms. Payne. We'll catch the culprit, and they'll be prosecuted to the full extend of the law. No vigilante justice needed."

"Has Batman got the memo?"

Gordon laughed. "Well, if he has, he's chosen to ignore it, unfortunately."

"Why not let him help? If the gossip is to be believed, half your police force is bought and paid for. Justice needs some muscle on its side."

"Batman doesn't help, Ms. Payne. He takes over, and prefers to work alone. Not exactly conducive to team work."

"Really? Because I heard you and he made quite the team before you were named Commissioner. Together you caught the Joker the first time," Chloe said, thinking back on the research she'd done the night before.

"And then we let him escape. After that Batman refused to see me or to work with the police. The man kidnapped my family. Threatened to kill my son. Would have if Harvey Dent hadn't been there to stop him. It cost him his life."

Gordon was lying, of that Chloe was sure. The tightness around his mouth, the way he glanced at the ground as he told his story and his furrowed brow gave it away. Unfortunately, Chloe could not as easily discover what truth he was hiding.

"Bruce Wayne was right earlier. The reason we can't allow Batman to roam free is because no one should get away with murder. It needs to be made clear that no one is above the law, even the people who uphold it."

"Yes, but Batman had to have actually murdered somebody for that to be true," Chloe observed.

"I was there. You can read the report."

"Would that be the report that claims that Harvey Dent, last seen at Gotham General Hospital before it was blown up, miraculously shows up at a deserted warehouse to save your son from Batman? Not to mention a lack of plausible motive for any of Batman's supposed actions."

"Forgive me Ms. Payne, but I believe your time would be better spent investigating the murder of your friend, rather than lobby for Batman's cause. I doubt he'd appreciate the help, anyway."

With that, Gordon stood up from the ledge. He reached into his pocket and fished out a business card that he handed over to Chloe. She was amassing quite a collection.

"If you need some quotes, or information on any cases, give me a call."

"Thanks," she said as she accepted the card. "But trust me, you're going to be sorry you gave me this."

The comment was said with a smile, which Gordon returned, before walking away and once again leaving Chloe alone. She sighed, and shrugged off the blanket on her shoulders. She folded it carefully and set it down on the ledge beside her.

Chloe would have to get a move on if she was going to make Hawk's 5 o'clock deadline. And with everything she'd witnessed today, he could expect one hell of a story.

*** * ***

Once her editor read the piece she submitted, he was more than happy to approve Chloe's request for a day off. She'd claimed that she needed the day to recover emotionally, but the truth was that Chloe was hoping to gain some ground in her investigation. She'd checked out the murders that were mentioned at the press conference. Like the Metropolis murders, all the victims had a smile carved onto their faces and the bat blades, which were identified as the source of the slashes, were left at the murder scenes.

The Gotham Police believed, foolishly in Chloe's opinion, that Batman was responsible as he was already believed a murderer. The people of Gotham suspected that the murders were mob motivated, like most of the crime in Gotham, but some believed there was no rhyme or reason to the murders. They were simply a hazard of living in the Narrows that ensured only the strong survived. Modern day natural selection.

Obviously whoever was responsible wanted to send a clear message yesterday, that no amount of fancy equipment and well trained officers would keep them from terrorizing the city.

Chloe believed that the murders were the result of the logic of a madman, which is the only reason Chloe would venture into the dilapidated wreck that the people of Gotham had the nerve to call a mental hospital.

Arkham Asylum loomed over Gotham, casting the Narrows in its shadows. Although gated off from the city, the empty storefronts and boarded up houses that surrounded the facility demonstrated that the evil housed within had managed to seep out and infect the community.

Asylums had always disturbed Chloe. After learning of her mother's fate and the very real possibility that Chloe would one day be locked within one, she had skillfully avoided them. Well, not today. She didn't have a choice, she needed to check in on the Joker. He was her biggest lead and Andrea was counting on her. Chloe steeled herself. She'd done worse things. She'd _died _for heaven's sake. Besides, she had her tazer in her purse, and Ollie had insisted on some basic hand to hand training when she'd joined the league.

The inside of the asylum was just as revolting as the outside. Paint was peeling from the walls and the cheap linoleum floor was covered in skid marks. Probably from the people who didn't want to be locked up in this place, not with homicidal sociopaths like the Joker.

Chloe approached the front desk. Her press pass was tucked away in her purse. Chloe found that she often was able to glean more information from people when they were unaware she worked for the media.

"Hi there," Chloe greeted, hoping to secure the attention of the nurse at the desk. She was currently faced away from the entrance, bent over a filing cabinet.

The woman shut the filing cabinet and turned around. Chloe's eyes widened in horror at what she saw.

She was young, probably just a little older than Chloe. She had dark chestnut hair that fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, and bright piercing green eyes. She would have been one of the most gorgeous women Chloe had ever seen, if not for the angry scars at the corners of her mouth she was trying futilely to cover with makeup.

"So you noticed the scars, did you?" the girl laughed at Chloe's expression. "I've tried my hardest to cover them up, but nothing's worked. Now, what can I do for you?"

This girl was way too happy to be working here, especially with what had happened to her. This must be the girl from the video Vicki gave her, the one the Joker attacked.

"I'm actually here to inquire about a patient, but before I get to that, I hope you don't mind me asking what happened?"

"The Joker happened, that's what. We were doing a routine entrance assessment, doc was asking the questions and I was working the camera. We film the assessments so that we can watch it back later and look for nervous twitches, fidgeting, stuff like that. I'm just doing my job, and suddenly the wacko attacks me. They call him the Joker, but I don't think he's all that funny."

"I'd have to agree," Chloe commented. "I'm Penelope, by the way."

"Harleen," the girl introduced herself as she gestured at her name tag. She had an accent Chloe couldn't place. She seemed very talkative, and Chloe decided to use it to her advantage.

"Harleen, I don't mean to be rude, but after being attacked by a patient, why would you want to return to a place like this?"

"I've gotten that question a lot actually. My ma is especially upset I won't leave, but the truth is the Joker did this because he cares about me. He saw I was unhappy, and wanted me to smile more. The patients here, they still experience all the same emotions as you or me, they just have a hard time expressing them in a way you normal people understand. I want to help them, which is why I came back."

Chloe fought the urge to interject that sociopaths like the Joker actually did _not_ experience the same emotions, which is why they were sociopaths.

"You have so much passion for your work," Chloe said instead.

"Oh yeah," Harleen agreed. "I really do prefer being with the patients, rather than working reception. I make a connection with them, you know? I understand them and they appreciate it, in their own way. They banished me out here after this happened," she gestured to her face. "But I get to go back there every so often. That patient, the Joker, he asks for me specifically sometimes. Won't do anything unless I'm there, threatens the guards, says he'll hurt himself. I calm him down. I've been told I have that effect on people."

Chloe couldn't imagine why, with a voice like that, but again she kept her thoughts to herself. "You must really know the Joker well, if he's come to rely on you so much."

She laid it on thick to keep the nurse talking.

"You know? I really have. He's a good guy under all that make up. He lived a really hard life. Told me he got his scars when his mom couldn't repay a loan. Thugs attacked him, and he was just a little boy. I mean, that's gotta screw you up, right?"

A different story than was present in the witness report when the Joker crashed the Wayne party. Interesting.

"It must be really exciting talking to him, figuring out why he does the things he does."

"Not that interesting actually, he'll talk anyone's ear off about it. You see, he told me his goal was to prove to Gotham that every one is just as crazy as he is, one way or another. People have been calling him a maniac all his life, so he just wants to show people he's not that different from you or me. It's sad. All he wants is to be accepted."

The murders certainly sounded like something the Joker would do. If his goal was to drive the people of Gotham crazy, the best way to do it was to eat away at their security and destroy what they love. But the fact remained that the Joker had been locked up for the past few months, and under constant surveillance. He couldn't have personally committed the murders, and why spread his reach into Metropolis?

"Does he get many visitors?" Chloe asked. She made sure to seem just slightly curious, as if she didn't really care about the answer.

The nurse laughed, "You obviously haven't met the guy. Not the most social, I mean, look at my face."

Then the nurse narrowed her eyes, "You ask an awful lot of questions. You aren't a reporter or something are you? Because I told the last one to stop coming by. She wasn't the kind of person he should really be associating with, anyway. But he was just obsessed with the photos she took. He kept copies from the paper in his room, plastered all over the walls. It wasn't healthy. I made a call to the paper, to make sure she didn't come back."

Could she be talking about Vicki? Chloe would have to call the woman later and find out the nature of her relationship with the Joker.

"No, not a reporter. I'm a student from Metropolis University. I'm taking a graduate course on psychopathologies, and I found the Joker fascinating. I'm certainly glad I've gotten to talk to an expert like yourself."

Chloe was glad she'd left her press pass tucked away.

Harleen blushed in pleasure. "You know, I always thought about going to grad school. Maybe I could be a doctor, instead of a nurse. Tell you what Penelope, how would you feel if I could arrange a meeting between you and the Joker?"

"I'd say you'd take my thesis to the next level."

"Come back tomorrow at lunch and I'll get you a face to face. I'm not working the desk, so ask for me by name."

"Thanks so much, Harleen," Chloe said.

"Call me Harley, all my friends do."

"See you tomorrow, Harley."

Chloe gave a little wave, and exited the building. Harleen Quinzel was an interesting character. It had certainly played in Chloe's favour, and now she had a one to one planned with the Joker. She was excited and scared at the same time.

This could be a break in the case if she managed to get something out of him. It could also paint a very big target on her back, that would have Gotham's most notorious psychopath aiming for it. Then again, when didn't Chloe have a target on her back?

The gravel crunched underneath her boots as she approached the parking lot. She glanced around her discreetly, ensuring she was alone, and pulled her cell phone from her purse. She hit a button on the pad to dial Vicki's number, which she'd programmed in earlier.

"Vale," was the answer.

"Vicki, it's Chloe."

"Sullivan, I heard about yesterday. I hope you're feeling better."

"I just needed the day to clear my head and remind myself why I'm here. I checked in on a lead, and I had some questions to ask you."

"Just a minute," was Vicki's reply. Chloe heard some shuffling on the other end, and the click of a door locking. Presumably, Vicki was making sure she would not be disturbed.

"I'm all ears."

"I've heard you've made some visits to the Joker at Arkham?"

"Yes, I did."

"The nature of these visits?" Chloe persisted.

"A story. Editor wanted to do a profile of the Joker, get an explanation of his actions from the horse's mouth, so to speak. After suffering through three agonizing hour-long visits with the psychopath, he decides to scrap the piece."

"Why wasn't it included in the packet you gave me?"

"Not that I owe you an explanation, Sullivan, but my editor confiscated everything. Said it was Gazette property, and watched as I erased the pictures off my camera. Wouldn't tell me why either."

"When did all this happen?"

"A couple weeks ago, right before my editor put me on those murders happening in the Narrows. Pulled me off that too, when I refused to report that Batman was the culprit."

"You don't think he's responsible?"

"Why spend so much time trying to save a city, just to turn around and start tearing it down? It doesn't make sense."

So Vicki agreed with her. That further strengthened Chloe's resolve that the Batman was being framed. She'd reached her car, and so she fumbled with the keys, and got inside as she continued.

"When you were meeting with the Joker did he mention anyone he'd seen recently? Maybe someone else who was visiting him?"

"I don't know about any visitors, but each time I went in there was this nurse who hovered around. She'd be in right when the hour was up, too, and usher me out. She seemed to be spending a lot of time with the guy. In fact, he'd talk about her during our sessions. Completely ignore what I'd asked him and say, 'Harleen Quinzel. What a funny name'."

"Did you see the scars on her face? She told me the Joker gave them to her because he cares about her."

"Well, between you and me, I don't know how anyone could work at Arkham and not be a little crazy themselves. I take it your lead took you there today, and that's why you have all these questions for me?"

"Yeah," Chloe admitted. "Just leaving, actually."

"If you don't mind sticking around in the Narrows, I can set you up to meet with a guy who has inside information about the Joker. Was one of his men at the pier that the Batman took down, but managed to escape hard time. He was willing to talk to me before the story got scrapped."

"That sounds perfect, Vicki. Thanks so much."

"Don't worry about it, kid. His address is 250 industrial avenue. I'll give him a call so that he knows you're on your way."

"Okay. Thanks again."

"No problem and good luck."

The line went dead. Chloe pressed the end call button on her phone, and dropped it onto the passenger seat. She then picked up her purse and began rifling through it for her GPS. When she found it, she searched the address Vicki had provided and found that the house wasn't far, only a ten minute drive or so.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks so much for your reviews! To answer **Julie**'s question, I reeeeeeaaaaaally wanted it to get to Chruce territory, but it turned out to be more of a Chloe-centric fic . . . but don't worry, I won't deprive you of _any B_ruce Wayne/Batman action. That would be cruel.

**Part Three**

The irony struck Chloe immediately as she turned onto Industrial Avenue. The scene resembled a modern day Flint, Michigan: boarded up houses littered the neighbourhood, and those that weren't looked equally neglected. Chloe passed the street's namesake, a dilapidated bottling factory, as she continued towards her destination.

When Chloe pulled over in front of the house, she was pleasantly surprised to see that it was by far the nicest on the block. It was a small bungalow, simply outfitted in grey siding, but what it lacked in curb appeal was overshadowed by the obvious care the owners put into their home. Their lawn was freshly mown, unlike their neighbours', and a fresh flower basket hung off the porch. Chloe approached the house and knocked. The door immediately swung open and Chloe was greeted by a wide smile.

"Ms. Payne?"

Chloe nodded.

"Come in," ushered the graying woman, who looked to be in her late forties. Chloe entered, and the woman quickly shut the door behind her, and dead bolted it. The woman chuckled self-consciously when she noticed Chloe's curious glance.

"Can never be too careful in these parts," she explained. "I'm Sarah, by the way. Frank's in the den. Just follow me."

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Chloe said as she was led through a short hallway.

"No problem. Frank's been itching to talk to Ms. Vale about what happened. Thinks it'll help clear his conscience. He never would've agreed to the job if he'd known what that man would make him do."

They passed the kitchen and into a small living room. The room was dark, as all the curtains had been drawn, and Frank sat on the couch with his head in his hands.

"Did anyone see you come in?" he asked, without looking up.

"I'm fairly certain no one saw me," Chloe replied. "It's like a ghost town out there, anyway."

"Been like that ever since the factory shut down," Sarah supplied. "It was the livelihood of a lot of people around here."

"It was our livelihood, too," Frank added. "That's why I was part of that horrible night."

"The job paid well?" Chloe asked, as she took a seat opposite Frank.

"It was supposed to, but that Joker guy, he was a piece of work. He never had any intention of paying us."

"How did you end up working for the Joker?"

"After the factory closed down, a lot of my friends got in deep with the mob. One of them told me this clown had gotten his hands on all of the mob's money, and he needed guys. I was told I'd get a thousand dollars just for helping out."

"A tempting offer," Chloe agreed. "But for that kind of money, you must have known something was up."

"It smelt fishy, alright, but I was desperate. We were four payments behind on our mortgage, and the bank was threatening to take away our house. It's the only thing we own. We don't have a car, we can't have children, we're out of work. I wasn't loosing my house, too."

"What did the Joker want you to do?"

"He was a crafty bastard, excuse my language. We were to look after the hostages, and make sure the police couldn't get to him. Only he had _us_ pose as the victims. Even dressed them up in clown masks."

"Excuse me," Sarah interrupted. "I'll just be in the kitchen."

She gave Chloe a tight smile, and exited the room.

"She doesn't like to hear the details about that night," Frank explained. "She's so disappointed. Sarah's not like most of the people that live in the narrows. She's always taken pride in her home, and even when we fell on hard times, she'd always smile and say we'd find a way."

"She just didn't expect it would involve any felonies. How _did_ you escape charges, by the way?"

"I have some buddies on the police force. It was so chaotic that night that when they saw what I'd got mixed up in, they gave me a whack on the head and sent me home to Sarah."

"You're awfully lucky. If you were anyone else you'd either be dead or in jail," Chloe pointed out.

'Don't remind me," he exclaimed, and his head dropped to his hands once more.

"One last question. Do you know why the Joker was doing this? What his motivation was?"

"The hell if I know," Frank responded. "If you ask me, I think the guy was crazy. He wanted to cause trouble for the hell of it. Chaos for the sake of chaos. His only aim was to hurt the people of Gotham."

Chloe bit her lip. Unfortunately all her interview with Frank had unearthed was a conclusion she had already drawn - the Joker was nuts.

"Thanks for your time," Chloe said. She approached the man, and extended her hand, which he shook firmly.

Chloe passed the kitchen on her way back to the front of the house, and gave Sarah a little wave. As she approached the front door, the woman called out to her, "Penelope, wait!"

Chloe stopped and turned. She could hear Sarah arguing with her husband in the living room, and then shuffling feet as she dragged him to the front of the house.

"Tell her what you told me," Sarah ordered her husband.

Frank sighed, and looked between Chloe and his wife. "Maybe she could do something about it," his wife continued to needle.

Franked nodded, and said to Chloe, "Something's happening tonight. Some of the Joker's men escaped jail time, like me, and they were told to meet at the docks, on the Narrows side, eleven o'clock sharp. A guy I know is heading down there, and asked if I was interested. I turned him down."

"Last I heard, the Joker was still locked up in Arkham Asylum," Chloe reminded the couple. "How's he organizing his men?"

"Don't ask me," Frank said. "You're the reporter, you figure it out."

Chloe smiled. She hadn't been called a reporter in a long time, but the moniker still evoked a burst of heat in the pit of her belly.

"Thanks again. You've been really helpful."

With that, Chloe unlocked the door, and let herself out.

As she fumbled in her bag for her keys, Chloe's body hummed in anticipation. Watchtower was finally going to do some field work.

*** * ***

Chloe had a couple hours before the night's events, and so headed back to her hotel. A cat nap and a good meal were in order before what promised to be a long night.

Before heading up to her room, Chloe approached the front desk and asked a woman if she had any messages. She hadn't heard from Andrea since she arrived, and Chloe hoped that the situation in Metropolis hadn't become worse.

"Room number?" the woman asked, poised and ready in front of her computer monitor.

"821," Chloe supplied.

A quick clack of the keys. "Name?"

"Penelope Payne."

"Can I see your key card?"

Chloe pulled it from her purse, and handed it over. The receptionist took the card and slid it down the side of her monitor.

"Your security code?"

Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, and asked the receptionist to clarify.

"When the room was booked," the woman explains, "It was asked that the room be placed under high security. You may not have noticed, but extra security has been placed on your floor, and only visitors who are aware of the code will be allowed up to your room. The code is also necessary for you to obtain any messages left for that room number."

"Can you tell me who requested this?" Chloe asked, slightly perturbed. Andrea had some explaining to do.

"It was requested when the room was booked, approximately one month ago."

"Excuse me?"

"It was requested when the room was booked on June 25th, 2009."

Chloe was taken aback. The room had been booked over a month ago, before the murders in Metropolis had even taken place.

"May I ask who made this request?"

"I'm afraid I can't give out that information," the woman said.

"Listen," Chloe leaned forward and glanced down at the woman's nametag, "Gina. I don't feel comfortable staying in a room that is being monitored by some stranger, so give me a name, or the Gazette will run an exclusive on the unorthodox business practices of Gotham's most elite hotel."

"Ma'am, we are a quality establishment," Gina bristled. "We would never let just anyone tamper with the security of our guests. Only the person who makes the booking can make the request. I would recommend you contact whoever made the booking for you, and discuss the matter with them."

Chloe nodded. Oh, she definitely would.

"Now, there's a note written on your file that says a package was left for you. I will need the code if you would like to take a look at it."

Chloe bit her lip. "Is there some kind of hint?"

Gina pursed her lips, and scrolled down the page in front of her.

"It says to tell you that the code is the place that holds your favourite memory."

Chloe frowned.

"The Watchtower?" Chloe ventured, thinking not only of her loft in Metropolis but also her codename.

"I'm sorry," the woman shook her head. "That's not what I have on file."

No, of course not, Chloe thought. The memories it evoked were painful, and Chloe only loved it for the link it supplied to someone she'd lost.

Chloe tried to remember the last time she was truly happy. The specifics of this past year were fuzzy, at best. After her Brainiac exorcism, Chloe never did recover all of her memories, the most devastating example being the complete lack of memory Chloe had of her wedding day. Besides, she'd spent the majority of this year at the Isis foundation, and that was certainly not her favourite place.

"The Talon?" Chloe guessed, thinking of the apartment she'd shared with Jimmy.

Again, the woman shook her head.

Chloe bit her lip. She thought back further, before Lex's crusade to stop the Traveler and Grant Gabriel crushed her dreams of ever escaping the basement. She remembered a day she stood trembling in front of Pauline Kahn, her soul laid out on the desk before her.

"The Daily Planet," Chloe said.

Gina nodded. "I'll just be a moment," she informed Chloe before heading to a back room to retrieve the package.

Very sneaky, Andrea, Chloe thought. The woman had never been shy in voicing that Chloe was wasting herself playing den mother to Oliver's group of wannabe superheroes.

Confronting Chloe with this fact was clearly one of her reasons for asking Chloe to head to Gotham.

"Here it is," Gina announced and handed Chloe a large manila envelope.

Chloe grabbed it greedily. It was hard won, after all.

She ripped it open, and pulled out a black and white photo. Upon inspection, Chloe realized it was a picture of herself, clutching the girl who'd died the day before. It was a high resolution, close up of the incident that must have been taken with a high quality camera. Scrawled across the bottom, in what Chloe hoped was red paint, was a message: "Why so serious?"

"When was this dropped off?" Chloe asked the receptionist. She checked the computer and answered, "It was logged in at 11 am."

Chloe nodded. Just minutes after she'd left the hotel that morning.

"Thanks," Chloe said, and walked over to the bank of elevators. She'd only been in the city for a couple days, and already the Joker was onto her. Clearly the murders were building to something, and Chloe had to figure out what before it was too late. Hopefully whatever was happening tonight would reveal everything.

As she emerged on the eighth floor, noticed a man in a suit with an earpiece. He was clearly one of the security guards that had been watching her room, and Chloe chastised herself for not noticing sooner. All the time she'd spent in front of computer monitors had made her rusty.

More importantly, however, Chloe was pissed off that and Andrea was having her watched.

Chloe got into her room, and threw her things down by the door. Grabbing her cell from her purse, Chloe walked to the bed and sat down. She dialled in Andrea's number, and hoped 4 pm was too early for the Angel of Vengeance to be out fighting crime.

"Rojas."

"When were you going to tell me my room was being monitored?" Chloe demanded.

"Chloe?"

"Of course it's me. What was it? Didn't think I could take care of myself?"

Andrea sighed. "Chica, I have no idea what you're talking about. Take it slow, and start from the beginning."

"I enquired at reception to see if I had any messages, and imagine my surprise when I was informed that I needed a security code. Security code! For my own messages!"

"Chloe . ."

"Wait!" Chloe interrupted. "That's not even the best part! There are security patrolling my floor to keep an eye on me, because clearly I am a five year old and not a twenty-three year old woman who can take care of herself."

"He really is a piece of work," Andrea laughed under her breath, but not so quiet that Chloe didn't hear.

"What did you say?"

Andrea sighed. "Sullivan, you've seen the hotel you're staying at, right? Obviously it's a little out of my price range. The truth is I'm not the only person who wanted you in Gotham."

"What?"

"I was asked by a friend for some help. Now, this isn't a guy who normally asks, so I wasn't going to turn him down."

"What am I doing here, Andrea?"

"Exactly what I told you. You're there to solve a murder case, before more people are hurt."

"Then why all the secrecy? Who told you to send me here?" Chloe asked forcefully. She didn't like being treated as a puppet in someone else's show.

"I can't tell you Chloe, I promised."

Chloe sighed into the receiver. As a secret keeper herself, she knew this part of the conversation was over.

"Is he on our side, at least?"

"Chica! I'm offended. You know I'd never work for the bad guys."

"Alright, I understand. But tell this guy to back off. I can take care of myself."

"I'll let him know, but I can't guarantee it will change anything. How's the investigation coming?"

"Hopefully I'll be able to tie things up after tonight."

"Very cryptic."

Chloe smiled. "I don't want to get into specifics, Big Brother could be watching."

"Chloe," Andrea groaned. "I'm sorry, okay? I got you out of that horrible apartment, didn't I? And I bet you're loving being back in the bullpen."

"First of all, the apartment is beautiful¾"

"It still has a blood stain on the floor!" Andrea interjected.

"And secondly . . . Yes, it has been nice. I'm not going to get used to it though, as soon as I figure this thing out, I'm coming home and starting my search for Lois again. Speaking of which, have you heard anything?" Chloe asked, hopefully.

"No, honey. Sorry."

Chloe deflated. "That's okay. She'll turn up eventually. She has to."

"Was that all you needed?"

"Just one more question, how much does this guy really know about me?" She asked, thinking of the memory he'd evoked earlier.

"Just the basics: journalist, hero and drop dead gorgeous."

Chloe grinned.

"Thanks. I'll give you a call when I wrap everything up. Keep Metropolis safe."

"I always do, even if I'm not as big a media whore as the Blur. Bye, Chloe."

"Bye."

Chloe ended the call, and tossed her phone on the nightstand, before lying down on the bed. She curled up onto her side, exhausted. So he hadn't known for sure the Plant housed her favourite memory, it had just been an educated guess. Chloe drifted to sleep thinking about her mysterious benefactor.

* * *

Chloe's eyes sprang open, and she looked wildly towards the clock beside the bed. 7:48 pm. Time to start getting ready, Chloe acknowledged. She rolled up in bed, and as a young woman with her priorities straight, reached for the room service menu on the side table.

Glancing over the glossy pages, Chloe decided that she was going to order whatever she felt like tonight, seeing as how she no longer had to feel guilty about infringing on Andrea's hospitality. Maybe this guy will think twice about monitoring people without their knowledge when he receives this massive room service bill.

After placing her order, Chloe got up and rifled through her bag for her suit. Fashioned after the suits Oliver had commissioned for the other members of the group, it was skin-tight and made of Kevlar developed at Queen Industries. Chloe had never worn it before, mostly because she had never had the occasion to. Chloe's principal role in the league was often to sit behind a computer, half way across the world from where the action was actually happening. There was also small part of Chloe that was too embarrassed to wear it. The suit left very little to the imagination, and unlike Lois and Lana, Chloe had a real woman's body. This included an indent between her hips and thighs and a slight-roundness to her lower belly, two attributes that do not favour normal clothing that is too tight, let alone a body suit.

It _was _nice to look at though. It was a dark shade of violet that looked black in the darkness, and would be perfect for the night's activities. The protection it added would come in handy if anything went awry. The outfit was not complete, however, without the matching sunglasses Oliver had also provided which, again thanks to Queen Industries, were equipped with a night vision setting. It was an outfit designed for nocturnal sleuthing. Plus, the suit cost a lot of money and Chloe figured she should get some use out of it.

She laid it down carefully on the bed, and then walked out in the sitting room to wait for her food to arrive. After her meal and after a lot of vigorous activity, Chloe managed to wedge herself into the costume. Through a feat of pure gymnastic skill, she even managed to fasten the suit herself, and then walked into the bathroom to survey the damage.

Staring at her reflection, Chloe sighed. She would never be contented with how her body looked stuck in this over priced piece of saran wrap, but she supposed it was the best she could do for tonight. Should she survive this, and once again have a billionaire willing to foot the bill, _she _was going to design the costume.

The outfit hadn't come with shoes, sadly, so Chloe selected a pair of well-worn leather boots from her suitcase. She then pulled her trench coat from its hanger in the closet, and pulled it on, securing it tightly. The cover would hopefully avoid any questioning looks from other guests as she made her way from her room to her car. Part of the suit was visible below her knees, but Chloe hoped many would chalk the purple leather up as a flamboyant fashion choice.

It was now 9:37 pm: time to go. She grabbed her purse and made sure to tuck her glasses inside, before exiting the room.

Chloe shut the door carefully, noting that the hallway was empty. She had yet to spot anyone else on her floor during her stay, save for the security guards roaming the hall, of who she was now ridiculously aware. Careful not be seen by the guard sitting and watching the elevators, Chloe decided to take the stairs down to the seventh floor, where she then boarded the elevator unseen. If this guy wanted to keep tabs on her, he would have to hire better men. Chloe smiled in self-satisfaction.

As the doors were closing, a voice called out, "Hold the elevator!"

Chloe made no move to do so, preferring to ride in solitude. This did not deter the voice, however, as suddenly a hand was thrust into the body of the machine. The doors opened, and revealed a slightly dishevelled Bruce Wayne.

Chloe stood up straighter, as a light of recognition shone on the man's face. "Ms. Payne, from the Gotham Gazette."

"Mr. Wayne," she greeted as he stepped on. He extended his hand out to her, which she shook firmly. Chloe was surprised to feel the distinguished bumps of calluses under her fingertips. Bruce had workers hands. She looked him over, and doubted very much he enjoyed manual labour in his spare time. He was dressed smartly, in a suit and tie.

"What brings you to the Excelsior?" he asked, as he moved to stand beside her.

"I'm staying here for the time being," Chloe hedged, not willing to give to much away.

"What about you?"

"The same."

"You mean you don't have some Gothic mansion to call home?" Chloe quipped.

"It's under repair at the moment, actually. I've found the accommodations here more than satisfactory."

"Even with all of us plebeians milling about?"

Bruce let out a bark of laughter. Chloe returned his smile. He became serious then.

"I hope you're feeling alright after yesterday. It's a horrible tragedy about that girl."

"I'm fine," Chloe assured him. "Thanks for asking."

Chloe looked up at the numbers counting down the floors, willing the machine to move faster. Bruce Wayne had more than lived up to his reputation. He was smooth and charming, and on any other night Chloe would be delighted at the attention, but at this moment he was only a distraction.

"That's an interesting outfit choice," Bruce noted companionably, indicating what he could see of the suit. "Going out tonight?"

It was asked lightly, but there was a sharpness about his eyes that betrayed him. Chloe looked at the man suspiciously and answered curtly. "Yes."

"Not all by yourself, I hope?" He prompted.

"I'd be more than willing to provide some company if that's the case," Bruce added with a playboy grin.

You're over selling it, Chloe thought as the elevator chimed, announcing their arrival at the lobby. As she'd lamented earlier that night, Chloe was not Lois or Lana. Billionaires didn't fall all over themselves when they met her. In fact, they often barely noticed her existence unless it served their own ends, which begged the question; Why was Bruce laying it on so thick? He wouldn't be the first rich man with a secret Chloe's known.

"That's unnecessary," Chloe said as she stepped out of the elevator. "I'm meeting a friend."

"Then you should at least let me escort you," Bruce insisted, as he followed. "Gotham can be very dangerous at night."

Overestimating your abilities a little, aren't you buddy? Chloe thought, but replied instead, "I'm actually just meeting her out front. So you see? I won't need a chaperone."

"Then at least let me escort you to her."

Chloe turned towards Bruce, exasperated and there was a sparkle in his eye that gave away his game. He didn't believe her! But how could he _know_?

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Chloe informed him.

"Really? Because I have two legs, and contrary to popular opinion, am quite capable of using them to propel myself from one point to another." A smirk accompanied the remark, and Chloe huffed.

"That's not what I meant," Chloe defended. He was persistent, Chloe had to give him that. Maybe he was interested in her, but Chloe had never found a smarmy attitude particularly attractive. Billionaire or not, Chloe needed to brush him off.

"My friend insisted that it was a girl's night, no men allowed. Sorry." Chloe cringed at the sarcasm that seeped into the last word, but Bruce didn't seem to notice, as his smile got wider.

"I understand now. I could never tarnish the sanctity of a girl's night out. It was nice chatting with you, Penelope."

And before she could stop him, he pulled her in close by the small of her back, and kissed her on either cheek in farewell. "A pleasure," Bruce reiterated in a whisper before he withdrew.

In a slight stupor Chloe watched as Bruce turned and sauntered over into the Hotel Lounge. Ok, so he was charming, but he was probably off to meet some flighty debutante for a drink, and he'd just used Chloe mercilessly for a little warm up, the bastard.

Forgetting about Bruce Wayne, Chloe marched across the lobby towards the exit. A shiver of anticipation ravished her body as the cool night air hit her skin. Chloe had forgotten how much she loved the thrill of field research. If she ever rounded up the missing members of the Justice League, Chloe would insist upon a more active role.

There was no way she could go back to passively sitting in front of a screen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

Chloe used her GPS to locate the docks, and determine the best place to stash her car. She arrived on site at 10:53 pm, just in time. She'd shed her coat in the car, and the sunglasses now adorned her eyes. Clasped around her waste was a lightweight utility belt, upon which Chloe had hooked a flash light, her GPS and some pepper spray. Unlike the rest of her outfit, which had originated from a lab housed within Queen Industries, the belt had been a gift from her Uncle Sam for her last birthday. Most importantly, hidden inside one of the belt's pockets was a digital camera the size of a credit card. Tonight's outing would be useless unless she had proof of whatever plot the Joker had cooked up.

As she approached the docks, she was graced with a scene she'd become familiar with : six men wearing horrible clown masks had gathered down by one of the cargo ships.

Presumably they had yet to receive their orders, as they all stood around listlessly. Although her place above the marina provided a perfect view of the scene, Chloe could not hear anything that was being said. If she hoped to learn anything she'd have to get closer to the group.

Careful not to be seen, Chloe crept downwards. The maze of cargo containers that surrounded the port provided cover as she approached. Finally, she hid behind a large metal crate. Peaking around the side, she could see the men had formed a semi circle around one of their own approximately 15 m away. Chloe listened as the man explained what needed to be done.

"In about five minutes, a ship with arrive from Coast City. It's carrying 500 kilos of heroine. The bags need to be loaded into these trucks," the man indicated two unmarked, windowless vans parked off to the side. "You'll get paid when it's all loaded, if there's no trouble. Understand?"

The men nodded.

"I need two guys to stand watch while we're loading."

He scanned through the people, "You and you," he said, indicating some burly men at the back of the crowd. He pulled two semi-automatics from a container beside him, and handed them over to his selections.

Passed the men, Chloe could see the ship approaching the dock. It was a moderate sized sail boat**. **The men watched anxiously as it inched closer to the shore. Chloe imagined many of them were eager to get the job done and get out of here. Maybe they were desperate for the money, like Frank, and would go home to their families as soon as they could. Chloe frowned and wished they would realize that working for people like the Joker was not worth the risk.

The boat docked, and the men started unloading the cargo. The man in charge got on the boat, and took off his mask to talk with the transporters. Probably planning their next drug run. The thought made Chloe grit her teeth. It was men like him Chloe hated the most. They preyed on the vulnerable in order to further themselves, and as a result, perpetuated the poverty and desolation of places like the Narrows.

Well, Chloe thought, let's see how long you can flood the streets of Gotham with drugs once this hits the front page of the Gotham Gazette.

Chloe pulled her digital camera out, and zoomed in on the man's face. She snapped a couple shots, and then zoomed out and took some pictures of the scene unfolding in front of her. Luckily, the 'guards' were completely incompetent, often looking back at the men unloading opposed to monitoring their surrounding environment.

After she was satisfied with the images, Chloe hid back behind the crate and pulled out her cell phone, and a business card that had crumpled at the edges. Commissioner Gordon needed to know what had happened here tonight, so she'd just make an anonymous tip and be on her way for the evening.

She may have been holding front page news in her camera, but none of Chloe's questions had been answered. She still had no direct evidence linking the Joker to the murders, and Chloe very much doubted that the Joker had even had a hand in organizing this deal. It was too ordinary, a crime boss smuggling drugs. Perhaps the clown masks were worn to cast blame on an already established villain? In any case, Chloe decided it was time to call it a night. Her fingers were poised to dial the number, when suddenly gunshots went off behind her.

Chloe whirled around and watched in horror as the men standing guard turned their guns on the workers. The four men didn't even have a chance to blink before they were gunned down.

What the hell was going on?

"Good job, boys," an annoyingly familiar voice congratulated from the shadows. The men turned as a woman dressed up as a harlequin emerged from behind another metal crate and approached them. If Chloe's suit was tight, then this girl had on a second skin. It was half black and half red with the traditional cap to match. Her face was painted haphazardly, reminiscent of the Joker's signature look with black rimmed eyes and an unnatural red grin. Who was this girl?

"Just like you said, boss," the man in charge announced. "There's more money, now that there's only four of us."

"Oh, Silly!" the girl laughed. Chloe winced. Her voice was achingly, gratingly familiar.

"Didn't I mention," she continued, the emotion gone from her voice, "there's only two vans?"

Then the guards turned their guns on him.

"Thanks guys," the girl chuckled while she watched the man's body crumple to the ground. "You're peaches, the pair of you! Now scoot, daddy's waiting."

The men shouldered their guns, and caught the sets of keys she tossed at them. As the men walked to the vans, Chloe frantically shoved her cell phone away and grabbed for her digital camera. She started taking pictures of the woman who'd suddenly arrived. With an outfit like that, Chloe noted, she had to be working for the Joker.

The engines of the vans revved, as the two men started them up and began to drive away.

"Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . ." the woman started counting down loudly. Chloe watched intently as she neared the end. ". . .one . . . zero."

A massive shockwave sent Chloe tumbling to the ground as both vans erupted in flames.

What was she doing? Chloe thought hysterically. She's just destroyed all of their product and she's killed all of her men. What is going _on_?

Chloe had no time to contemplate further, as when she peeked out at the woman, she was running directly for her. Shit.

As she neared Chloe's hiding space, she suddenly bent forward and gracefully executed a front flip onto the crate. Seconds later she was grinning evilly down at her. "Now what do we have here?" she asked rhetorically. Chloe looked up at the girl, her eyes immediately drawn to the angry scars at the corners of her mouth. The voice suddenly clicked.

"Harleen?" Chloe exclaimed in surprise.

The woman didn't acknowledge the label, and instead questioned. "Are you a reporter, young lady? I hate reporters. Always sticking their nose where it doesn't belong. I think I should teach you a lesson."

This statement immediately kicked Chloe's flight instincts into high gear, and she took off at a run, heading towards where she'd parked her car. "Don't tire yourself out, love," Harley called as she jumped easily from crate to crate, parallel to Chloe's path. "I've been in gymnastics since I was two," she informed her. "A prodigy, they called me. You don't have a chance."

The malice in Harley's last statement was palpable, and spurred Chloe on. She suddenly veered off the path up to the street, and started to scale the hillside in a more direct route to her car. As there were no crates stacked in this direction, Harley was forced to pursue Chloe by more conventional means. Thank god for all those morning runs with Bart, Chloe thought as she steadily increased the distance between herself and the crazy woman perusing her.

Chloe emerged from the marina, back into the Narrows. She cut down an alley way, and arrived on the side street where she'd parked her car. With her last bit of energy, Chloe sprinted for her vehicle. She was almost there, just a couple more feet. When she arrived and hopped in the driver's side door, she was dismayed to see that all the wiring had been pulled out under the steering wheel. Chloe threw her head back in frustration, and noticed that hastily scribbled across the windshield in red lipstick was the message, "I HATE LIARS."

Chloe knew that writing! It was the same as was on the threat she'd received earlier today. Shit. That meant Harley knew who she was even before she'd visited Arkham. Not good.

"So you're a grad student, huh?" came a question from Chloe's left. She turned, and saw Harley approaching. "Are you doing some field research? Observing criminals in their natural habitat?"

Chloe got out of the car and circled around to the other side, placing the vehicle between them. Chloe could hear sirens in the distance. The police were on their way to investigate the commotion at the docks. She ignored the question and asked, "Harleen, why are you doing this?"

"I want to help him, Penelope. This is the only way I know how."

The him Harley was referring to was obviously the Joker. She was a loyal servant to him. The link to the outside the Joker would need to be involved in the murders.

"By wreaking havoc on Gotham?" Chloe asked, and then took a chance, "By murdering people and framing Batman?"

Harley grinned. "So you figured that out, huh? Between you and me, I'm not as good a person as he is. When he said to me, go help the people of Gotham like I've helped you, I got really jealous. Why should he care about anyone else? He had me, didn't he? That's why I killed them. I didn't want them to be happy like I was. These," she indicated her scars, "are what link us. No one else can have them and live. No one."

"Was it the Joker's idea to frame the Batman?" Chloe asked. All she had to do was keep her talking. If she kept Harley distracted, maybe Chloe could find a way to escape.

"Yeah," Harley admitted. "I could care less about the guy. But Jack insisted. That's his name, you know? Jack. He really wants the people of Gotham to hate the Batman, to see that Batman and the Joker are the same."

"Why didn't you stop at just Gotham? Why did you target Metropolis as well?"

"Don't ask me. He named the cities, and I took the day trips. Had to burn a helluva lot of vacation time, too."

"Cities? You've been doing this in other cities?"

"Oh yeah. New York, Star City, Metropolis, Keystone City, Coast City. I've been _everywhere_."

Those are all heroes' cities, Chloe realized, but doubted the thought had occurred to the woman before her.

"So, it's been fun chatting," Harley said, and tapped a non-existent watch on her wrist. "But would you look at the time! I've got to run. It's been fun."

Harley began to advance on her, when suddenly a black, cloaked figure landed noisily on the roof of Chloe's car.

I'll _never_ have the money to fix that, Chloe thought desperately. She looked up at her saviour and without thinking yelled, "Why couldn't you have landed on the ground?!"

The figure, which had been crouching, drew up to it's full height and turned towards her. It was the Batman, and he looked as imposing and formidable as all of the eyewitness accounts Chloe had read, save for the slight quirk of his mouth as he looked at her. It was a bloody life or death situation, and Batman was smirking at her.

He turned back to Harley.

"Gotham's filled it's costumed lunatic quota, and he's behind bars."

"That's what you think," she muttered, before whining, "Who invited you to the party, anyway? I was just starting to have some fun."

"I wasn't!" Chloe objected. "I wasn't having fun at all!"

"So I gathered," came the stoic reply.

Ok, so he wasn't Mr. Personality, but at least he was standing between her and the crazy lady.

"I thought this might happen," Harley stage whispered to Chloe. "The Batman has the tendency of showing up where he isn't wanted. I've been pretty lucky in the past, though," she gloated.

Chloe saw the ghost of a frown, before the Batman responded, "Your luck's about to change."

He leapt from the roof of the car, towards Harley, but the girl was too fast. She tumbled away in a series of flips, and then grinned at him as she stuck her landing.

"A good thing I came prepared."

And for a moment Chloe could have sworn she was looking at the face of the Joker as an expression of pure malicious glee graced her features. Seemingly from nowhere, because where could she have hid it? The woman withdrew a handgun and pointed it straight at Chloe.

"You really shouldn't have lied to me," she said, before pulling the trigger.

In a flash, Chloe was enveloped in a firm grip with Kevlar scratching her cheek and she was also pretty sure they were flying. When she was finally released from Batman's hold, Chloe saw that he had propelled them onto the fire-escape of a neighbouring apartment building. Scanning the street, she noted bitterly that Harley had managed to escape.

"So," Chloe started, breaking the silence. "Thanks for the save."

No response. Another beat of silence, and then, "Can you take me back down to my car?"

The Batman complied, also in silence, and used a nifty line on his utility belt, which Chloe grudgingly admitted to herself was way cooler than her own, to lower them to the ground.

When he released her, Chloe quickly walked over to her car to inspect the damage. Two large, foot-shaped dents had destroyed the roof of the cabin, and the force of the Batman's impact had managed to shatter both windshields.

"You owe me a new car!" Chloe called angrily to the man, who'd been observing her. He approached her then, and responded in his signature raspy voice, "I distinctly remember saving your life about a minute ago. I think we're even."

He was right, Chloe shouldn't be complaining, these were the hazards of investigation, as she well knew. She'd just have to dip into the League's emergency fund. It's not like anyone else was around to use it anyway.

"Well, I think you owe me a ride to my hotel, at the very least," Chloe amended. Her curiosity got the better of her then and she continued, "How did you manage to show up in the knick of time, anyway? Weren't you distracted by all the chaos down at the docks?"

"I have my ways," he answered, mysteriously. And that's all Chloe could remember before blacking out.

*** * ***

Chloe awoke groggily the next morning. Her head ached, and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Eventually, she sat up in bed, and looked around. She was back in her hotel room. But how had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was questioning the Batman, and then . . . That _asshole_.

Chloe glanced at the clock, and did a double-take. She was late for work! Newly energized, Chloe hopped out of bed. As she pulled a skirt and jacket from the closet, Chloe noticed her bodysuit had been hung carefully, and quickly looked down at herself. She was in a matching short and tank top pyjama set that Chloe remembered was in her suit case. Well! Chloe was going to hunt down Batman, and they were going to have a serious talk about boundaries.

After dressing, Chloe quickly phoned Andrea and informed her of last night's activities, but something about her run in with Harley had been bugging her.

"She targeted heroes' cities, Andrea, and no one bothered to check what was happening in Gotham."

"Unfortunately, Chloe, Batman has never been a team player. I've worked in Gotham only by shear force of will. The Joker wanted to isolate Batman from the only people who could help, other heroes, by framing him for the murders. Batman has always toed the line between hero and villain, and I guess it wasn't so hard for others to condemn him."

Andrea allowed what she said to sink in, before she reiterated, "It's his greatest flaw, his inability to ask for help, which is why I think you should stay in Gotham."

"But Andrea, you know I can't stay here. Lois is¾"

"Back," Andrea finished.

"What?"

"She showed up at the Planet this morning, with Clark Kent following close behind, business as usual. She hasn't called you?"

"No."

After the reveal of Lois' return, Chloe shut down. She responded in grunts when Andrea said she would be on her guard for any clown like villains that set their foot in Metropolis and would get the word out to her contacts in the cities Harley had mentioned the night before. When Chloe hung up, she noticed a blinking light on the phone beside the bed, indicating she had a message. She again pulled the receiver to her ear, hoping to hear Lois' voice.

"Hello there. This is Marianne from guest services. I'm calling to inform you that a package was dropped off at the front desk for you at 2:47 am. You can pick it up at the reception desk in the lobby."

Chloe put the receiver down, and checked her cell phone. No messages. She tried Lois' cell, but got no answer. Angrily, she threw her phone in her purse ran out the door. She'd try again when she got to the Gazette.

As she passed, by she noticed that the man watching the elevator last night had left, and was replaced by a fresh-faced young man. Chloe had to wonder how two separate men could miss a strange man in a bat suit carrying her unconscious form into her hotel room? Given Batman's propensity for soaring through the air, it was possible he had brought her in through the balcony. But Chloe had made sure it was locked before she'd left her room, the previous night, and she'd seen no damage to the window that morning.

She took the elevator to the lobby and stopped by the front desk to pick up her package.

"Room number?" a man asked this time.

"821," Chloe supplied.

A quick clack of the keys. "Name?"

"Penelope Payne."

"Can I see your key card?"

He took it from Chloe, and swiped it down the computer monitor.

"Security code?"

"The Daily Planet," Chloe said confidently.

"Thank you," the man responded. He left her then, to go get Chloe's package.

As Chloe stood at the front desk, she watched the other patrons milling around the lobby. Most of them were heading for breakfast in the dining room, and Chloe's stomach groaned in protest.

"Hungry?" came a voice from her right, and Chloe saw that Bruce Wayne had sidled up to her. "The quiche here is amazing. The best breakfast in all of Gotham."

"I'm sorry, but I'm already late for work," Chloe informed him, glad for the excuse.

"Maybe next time."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about work. I already cleared it with your boss."

Chloe's eyes whipped towards him and she asked sharply. "You what?"

"Well not so much cleared it with your boss. More that I am your boss. You see, Wayne Industries holds the majority share of the Gotham Gazette. And just so you know, I will not let you leave this lobby without eating."

"Oh, and you can manage that because you own the hotel as well, is that right?" Chloe asked sarcastically.

"In fact, I do," Bruce smirked.

Chloe rolled her eyes. Of course he did. At that moment, the man returned with her package. It was an unmarked manila envelope. With a sense of déjà vu, Chloe backed away from the front desk and hastily ripped it open. She pulled out another glossy black and white photo, this one of Chloe arguing with Harley over the roof of her car. In the same red paint, written across the bottom was the message, "Welcome to the game."

The writing was not Harley's, but Chloe had an idea of whose it was. But he was still locked in Arkham, how had he managed . . .

"Chloe," Bruce intoned from above her shoulder. "We need to talk."

Chloe turned towards him and demanded, "How do you know that name?"

Then everything made sense. Bruce owned the hotel and the Gazette. Andrea hadn't pulled any strings, Bruce had set up everything. He'd arranged for her hotel room, an entire floor if her suspicions were correct, and her internship. He was the man Andrea mentioned, he was the one having her watched.

"We can discuss everything over breakfast," he said. The joking playboy was gone, and in his place stood a man aged from the weight of a great responsibility. It was a look she saw mirrored on the face of all of her friends, Oliver, Dinah, Clark, when they didn't know she was watching.

She followed him silently to the dining room. Bruce had a word with the hostess when they arrived, and they were sat in a private corner of the restaurant, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other diners.

As soon as they were left alone with their menus, Chloe pounced.

"Why am I here, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce sighed. "Ever since Harvey Dent's murder, the police have interfered with the efforts on the part of the guardian of this city. I'm sure you've heard of Batman?"

She'd more than heard about him.

"Wasn't it just yesterday _you_ were financing a task force to hunt down said guardian?"

Bruce grinned. "The people believe Batman is a murderer, and they expect Wayne Enterprises to step in. I don't have a choice. But that's why I'm recruiting your help. As you probably know, the Angel of Vengeance has traveled to Gotham on more than one occasion. When I approached her about returning on a more permanent basis, she claimed that Metropolis needed her, and that's when she suggested you. I made all the arrangements, and she got you here."

Chloe balked at the man. "But I'm not a hero. At least, not in the traditional sense. I'm an investigator . . . A journalist," Chloe declared. "I uncover the truth so that the proper authorities can take care of it. I don't think I'm what you need."

"On the contrary, Chloe. I know you are _exactly_ what Gotham needs. Batman needs to realize he would do more good if he had someone else fighting with him. He's more than capable of supplying the muscle."

"And you think Batman would accept my help, just like that?"

The thought had been niggling in the back of her mind when she met him in the lobby this morning, but now Chloe was almost positive that Batman and the man before her were one in the same. He had the same strong jaw line, and thin lips as the hero, and the trim body housed beneath his suit spoke to his strength. His hands, Chloe remembered, were work worn, which spoke to his dedication. Finally, he spoke intimately of details Chloe doubted anyone but the hero himself would know, and Bruce Wayne was not be the first billionaire Chloe had met with a penchant for vigilante justice.

Gazing at the man, Chloe decided she'd keep this conclusion to herself for the time being. She doubted Bruce would be happy she'd figured out his secret, and decided she would learn more if she kept her cards close to her chest. Besides, it seemed hardly fair that Bruce presumably knew a lot about her, and she very little of him.

"I do," he declared.

Chloe was saved from refusing his proposal immediately by the arrival of their waiter. She couldn't leave Metropolis. It was her home, and it needed her. She had a purpose there, and she couldn't just abandon it. He took their orders quickly, and walked away. Bruce turned his eyes towards her.

"The fact of the matter is," Bruce continued, "you're a part of this now. The Joker has his sights set on you, and city limits won't change that. That's been made clear."

Suddenly, Chloe's cell phone began jingling to the tune of 'I love Rock and Roll'. That was Lois' ring tone! Without thinking of propriety, Chloe ignored the man in front of her and quickly pulled her cell phone from her purse and brought it to her ear.

"Hello?" her voice quivered in hope.

"Chloe!" greeted her cousin. "Where the hell are you?"

"Lois! Oh my god. Are you all right? Where have you been? I've been driving myself crazy looking for you!"

Lois had the audacity to laugh. "I told Clark we should let you know where we were, but he didn't want anyone to be able to track us down. Chloe, we were in Paris and I had the time of my life."

"Lois, you've been missing for weeks! How long have you been with Clark?"

"What do you mean weeks?" Lois asked in disbelief. "Chloe, it was only a five day trip. I'm back at the Planet this morning."

Weird, but there was probably some Kryptonian explanation that would make sense of everything.

"You're back at work? But you left without telling anybody, including Tess. In fact, she was the last one to see you before you disappeared. She said she'd fired you."

"Oh, cuz! You and me both know the Planet's nothing without me. She had to take me back if she wanted to start selling papers again. And you missed the best story! Our plane back from France hit some turbulence. I was sure it was going to crash, but then the blur came out of nowhere and guided our plane to the ground. Clark was in the bathroom and missed the whole thing. I don't know how he plans to be a reporter, if he's never around when the news breaks."

Lois kept talking, happy to recount all of her various adventures, but Chloe wasn't listening. Lois was back, had been back for days, _with Clark._ And neither of them thought to call her, thought to let her know they were alright and she could stop worrying. Finding them had been her whole life for the past couple weeks, and both of them returned and slid effortlessly into their old lives without a thought about her. Lois' life moved happily forward while her's had imploded. Lois had everything, and now that her search was over, Chloe had nothing.

Soundlessly Chloe shut her cell phone, and tossed it back in her bag. And looked up at Bruce, who was eyeing her strangely. She reconsidered his proposal. There was nothing tying her to Metropolis anymore. Lois and Clark were back, more than happy to take over and safeguard the city, with Andrea around to pick up the slack. She had no job, no family other than Lois, no friends after the stunt Clark had pulled. No future, Chloe realized with surprising clarity, unless Chloe did something to change that.

"I accept," Chloe answered finally, choosing to ignore Bruce's questioning look over her outburst on the phone. "On two conditions, I'm nobody's sidekick and I design the costume."

**A/N**: The end! This piece is now complete, but obviously there is way more story to tell, so I'm toying with the idea of turning this into a series. Y/N? I hope you enjoyed reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed.


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